


Burn (Chris Evans x Reader)

by Steggy



Series: Tumblr Prompts [23]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Dodger - Freeform, Dog - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Pancakes, his shirt :-)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:56:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steggy/pseuds/Steggy
Summary: Morning routine. You climb out of bed before your boyfriend and find yourself sharing pancakes with Dodger before he finally joins you, joking around with you, laughing together. Then Dodger interrupts something.





	Burn (Chris Evans x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> long wait for another ik. but here u go!

 

It’s the first thing you grab when you finally force yourself from the entanglement of the now slightly dampened sheets. You could have taken a few more steps, picked up your own shirt, and slipped  _ that  _ over your head, but like always, you’re drawn to the t-shirt next to yours, thrown so carelessly onto the ground amidst the morning wake up call. You pull the white cotton tee over your head and yawn as the fabric falls and brushes your mid-thigh before slipping back into your underwear and taking one last peek at your boyfriend passed back out in your bed. Then it’s padding across the hardwood floor into the kitchen where the sun is shining through the windows of your Boston apartment from its highest peak in the sky. 

Since the first craving of the day was already satisfied, the next thing on the list is pancakes. And you sure as hell know that the scruffy man down the hall isn’t going to complain if you make some for him, too. 

With the pan heated and the batter mixed, you lean away from the stove to switch on the bluetooth stereo rested on the counter and play some low tunes, settling into your groove as you embark on the pancake journey. The first few are a little messy, but are the perfect color as you flip them over onto your readied plate, bopping to whatever pop music was whistling through the speakers and humming along as you pour another circle into the pan. You let the batter sizzle for a minute or two so you can start up the plot of coffee, almost too into the music and task at hand to notice the little nails on the floor as Dodger follows the smell of pancakes from where he had been banished to the couch earlier. 

You laugh softly, reaching down and scratching his head as he nudges you, clearly trying to make his way to the plate of pancakes on the counter. 

“I’ll give you one as long as you promise not to tell Chris,” You murmur to the dog, kneeling down to kiss his head, though it’s a failed attempt since he intercepts with his tongue, slobbering all over your face. Laughing a bit harder, you shake him off and stand up grabbing one of the smaller pancakes from the plate and tossing it to Dodger. He eagerly eats it, and as he’s finishing, you notice movement down the hall.

Face flushing, ready to be caught spoiling the dog, you turn back to the stove and flip over the browning pancake, acting nonchalant, though Dodger starts pawing at you for another. 

“Saw that,” Chris calls from down the hall, his voice still thick with sleep.

“You saw nothing, dear!” 

He snorts, sounding closer now as he pads into the kitchen in only his boxers. 

“Right. I definitely did  _ not _ see you feed my dog a pancake.”

You pretend to ignore him and hum along to the music again, flipping the pancake on to the plate and pouring the last of the batter in the pan. 

“Aaaand,” Chris draws, and you feel him coming up behind you, feel his breath on the back of your neck before his arms snake around your waist. “I  _ definitely _ don’t see that you’re wearing my shirt. Again.” 

“Of course not,” You say under your breath, though the corners of your lips twitch into a lopsided smirk as you lean back into his chest and monitor the last pancake. “I would never.”

“Sure you wouldn’t.” He releases one arm from around you only to brush your hair off of one shoulder, giving him dangerous access to the now exposed skin of your neck. Which is already beginning to bruise in little spots. His lips touch just behind your earlobe before sliding down. “Good thing I love ya.” 

You hum in response, not to the music this time, enjoying his grip on you, the warmth of his embrace. 

You stay like that for a moment. His arms around you. Leaning back against his chest. Watching a pancake cook on the stove as his chin rests on your shoulder. It’s so domestic, it hurts. There’s no place else you’d rather be, with no one else, like anything else. Waking up to Chris every morning, even with the fights you got into every so often, it didn’t matter when mornings were like this. 

Chris shifts and plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Mm, I have a question.” His grip loosens as he pulls back, grabs two mugs and the coffee pot, and disappears behind you to assumably make you both a cup. 

“You know how I like my coffee by now, and if you don’t, maybe we need to reconsider this arrangement we have.” You push the spatula around the edges of the pancake, testing it, noting that it’s not ready yet. 

He chuckles lowly. “Not that. But the part about our ‘arrangement….’” 

You raise an eyebrow, playing along with a teasing tone to your voice, just about ready to flip the last pancake. “Babe, we already defined the relationship.”

Without looking at him, you know he rolls his eyes. You hear the coffee pot set on the counter, but Chris doesn’t move to the fridge for the creamer.

“Indulge me for a moment here.” You can hear the grin in his voice, and then his arms are suddenly winding back around your waist, his lips find your cheek, then he’s gone again. 

“All right, all right.” You grin. 

You hear movement behind you, figuring he’s moving to the fridge finally, but then you hear Dodger’s nails on the floor again, like he’s jumping, and Chris is laughing and pushing him off. “Dodger, c’mon, bud, really?” 

Finally curious enough to face him, you turn.

And fight the urge to burst into laughter. And tears. All at the same time. 

Chris kneels in front of you on one knee, fighting off the dog, laughing, though you can see, briefly, a small jewelry box in his hand. 

You gasp. “Chris, are you…?”

Chris notices you and finally gets Dodger to back off for a minute. A little out of breath from laughing, he responds with a brighter, wider grin, “Tryna  _ re _ define the relationship, yeah. And it seems like Dodger wants me to make it quick. Or else he might steal my celebratory pancakes.”

You blink back the tears building in your eyes and nod, urging him to go on. 

“I love you, [Y/N]. I’m not big on the big gestures here, and knowing you for as long as I have, I know you’re not either. I also know that you hate cliches, and I’m trying my hardest to avoid them, but… There is no one else I could ever love more than I love you, and I want to be there for you and love you for the rest of my life. [Y/N], will you —” 

Dodger cuts in, licking at Chris’s face again as he tries to reach for the box, but it gives you a moment to try and catch your breath. But fail as a tear drips down your cheek.

“Dammit, Dodge,” He chuckles again, nudging him away and finally getting to open the little velvet case. “Marry me? And preferably say yes before the dog attacks me again.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, butterflies pooling in the very pit of your stomach. Reminding you of the first time he kissed you. The first time you spent the night at his place. And every kiss, and every night since. 

But you paused, catching yourself, taking a deep breath, and waiting. 

With a smirk plastered on your face, you cross your arms and shrug. 

“Get ‘em, Dodger. Let him suffer a little longer.”

Chris’s eyes widen, but the dog obeys and immediately attacks his face again with kisses. Through the laughter, he gives up, standing up, and before you know it, his lips are crushed to yours, kissing you hard, with everything in him. And his face is wet with dog slobber. 

You squeal, laughing as you pull away, playfully shoving at his chest, though desperately wanting to pull him back to you, minus the drool. “Chris!”

“Just say yes,” Chris says breathlessly, grinning wildly, holding up the ring again. “C’mon, I know you want to.”

You roll your eyes, mirroring his smile and moving closer. “Wipe the drool off of your mouth, and I’ll give you my answer. 

Shaking his head, he wipes it off with the back of his hand and looks expectantly at you.

As soon as his hand falls to his side, your arms slip around his neck, drawing him back in, and you press your lips to his, murmuring against them, “Yes.”

His smiles against your mouth, kissing you back for a moment, breaking it only to slip the ring on your finger, and then his lips are back on yours, more eager than ever.

His beard brushes against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you draw him closer against you and drown in his kisses, even as Dodger whines and jumps at the show you two are putting on in the middle of the kitchen.

You’re so caught up in him, so drunk on Chris, drinking him in, relishing in his touch, in the weight of the ring on your finger, you ignore the tears falling freely now, dripping between you, turning the kiss salty. 

You also ignore the burning pancake on the stove.

Chris pulls back, his attention straying from you, despite your protests. “Is something burning?”

You look at each other. Then both of your eyes widen, and you scramble to salvage the pancake burning into the pan. 

* * *

 

Dodger at least enjoyed the burnt pancake.

And you enjoyed round two. 

With your  _ fiance.  _


End file.
